


"poison ivy. i guess."

by olicitea



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Camping, Gender-Neutral My Unit | Byleth, Nature, No Romance, No Spoilers, One Shot, byleth loves fishing, just for fun, there's poison ivy and thunderstorms and unforeseen events oh my
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 09:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20598503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olicitea/pseuds/olicitea
Summary: Every year, the staff of Garreg Mach Monastery goes on a team building retreat. This year, that included Byleth.





	"poison ivy. i guess."

**Author's Note:**

> full disclaimer: this is an actual mess im sorry
> 
> also I dont know how to set up a tent and was too lazy to search it up, so dont think too much about it when that shows up

Every year, the staff of Garreg Mach Monastery went on a team building retreat. This year, that included Byleth.

At least, that’s what Seteth told them. Rhea championed the excursion, insisting that it was important for all instructors to get along, and get to know each other too. She mentioned it casually, but Seteth took it upon himself to plan a two day camping trip for all the teachers, and of course made it mandatory to attend.

The opinions of the staff members were fairly split. Manuela and Shamir complained the most about the mandatory retreat - the former especially unhappy that she had to go _camping_ in the _woods_. Catherine seemed excited to go and make the most of it, putting to use all her “survival” skills. And Hanneman…well, Hanneman’s giddiness unnerved Byleth. They were sure the scholar was planning on investigating their crest once and for all, away from prying eyes.

So when the day finally came, and dark gray clouds loomed overhead as they hiked up the mountain, the weather did not stop them.

“Oh Goddess…I hope it doesn’t rain,” Manuela groaned. “It’ll totally ruin my hair. How will I impress men if I look like a wet dog?”

“If I may ask, Manuela, what men are you hoping to impress up here in the mountains? If you’re looking to fornicate with Bigfoot, I won’t stop you. Your children will make excellent research material!” Hanneman quipped, earning a scowl from the woman in question.

“If you two are gonna bicker the whole time, I’m going back to the monastery,” Shamir muttered, a look of annoyance gracing her face. Catherine let out a loud laugh.

“Oh, c’mon Shamir! You’re always so boring.” She walked with her hands interlocked behind her head, a grin on her lips.

The newest professor studied the scene. It felt strangely familiar, to hear all of them talking like this. Byleth had only been a professor for a few months, but the staff had been incredibly welcoming (save for Seteth, who still held his fair share of suspicion). All these people almost felt like a family to Byleth, which was more warming and comforting than they could possibly know.

The coniferous trees guided the way to a clearing at the peak of the hill. The clouds rolled in, darkening the afternoon sky considerably.

“This seems like a good enough place to settle,” Seteth announced. He had been leading the group, finally putting the map away. He dropped the tents he had been carrying on the patchy, rocky terrain.

Byleth walked over to peer over the edge of the cliff. They weren’t too high up, but elevated enough to see the sprawling fields of Fódlan. The professor wasn’t even sure if they were still in Garreg Mach territory or if they had entered the Alliance, Kingdom, or Empire. For being a well-traveled mercenary, they weren’t too great with directions.

“Shamir, Catherine, and I will set up the tents. Professor, you go with Manuela and Hanneman to find firewood,” Seteth explained. Byleth nodded, and the group got to work.

* * *

Finding firewood was a lot harder than it seemed, considering that the rain started pouring down as soon as they began their search.

Manuela let out a string of expletives, complaining about how “she knew this was going to happen.” Hanneman stayed quiet, inspecting each tree to the best of his ability with the rain making it hard to see. His monocle was speckled with raindrops, making the task even more difficult.

The rain didn’t bother Byleth all that much. Life as a mercenary required them to get used to rough conditions, and rain was so common in the southern regions of Fódlan that it no longer fazed them. Their colleagues, on the other hand, were much higher maintenance than Byleth was. The professor could practically see the former songstress’s irritability levels rise with each passing second, and it didn’t escape them how she started to shiver dramatically after a while. Hanneman grew frustrated as a result of his limited vision, and had begun to pick up any wooden log he saw laying around, hoping for the best. Byleth followed suit, taking their rain-soaked gloves off and picking up anything they saw that could be useful.

After about half an hour of trudging through the pouring rain, they were ready to give up. The dirt had turned to mud, and perhaps the only part about the situation that displeased Byleth was how their boots would need intensive cleaning.

“My word…this storm really isn’t letting up, is it?” Hanneman noted, although his tone did not sound too amused. He caught sight of the professor and furrowed his brow. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Byleth frowned, about to ask, “Why wouldn’t I be?” when they looked down to realize they were furiously scratching their hand. Their skin was red and splotchy, irritated. They grimaced. After a pause, they spoke. “Poison ivy. I guess.”

Manuela turned around, and her face morphed to concern as she peered at the rash. “This looks pretty bad. And I don’t think my healing magic would do much good - you need some actual medicine.”

Byleth shook their head. “I’m fine. Let’s just get back to camp. We won’t find any dry wood out here now.”

Hanneman and Manuela locked eyes. Neither of them had any complaints with the plan.

* * *

“Do you have any idea how to set up a tent?” Seteth asked, his annoyance plastered on his face.

Catherine looked up, gritting her teeth. “Listen, if it’s so easy, then why don’t you come and do it?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

Shamir scoffed. “Thunderstrike Cassandra, one of the greatest Knights of Seiros, wielder of Thunderbrand, can’t set up a tent? That’s laughable.”

Catherine looked up incredulously. “Shamir, your tent is collapsing in on itself. What the hell are you on about?” she seethed, looking ready to start pulling hair and kicking teeth.

The rain was coming down hard now, and Shamir’s tent - deformed and lopsided - was forming a pool of water in its concave ceiling. After a few moments, part of it snapped and the tent was flat on the ground.

Seteth let out a long sigh. “Must I do everything myself?” he asked, finally walking up to Catherine’s tent, which was in the process of being set up. He grabbed one of poles, and Catherine grabbed another one. “Let’s try this together. Bend it like this.” He demonstrated, fixing one corner of the tent with ease. Catherine tried, but it was hard to keep a grip on the pole with the rain coming down so intensely. Every time she tried to bend it, the pole would just spring back into its straight form.

“I’ll do it,” Seteth said, trying to grab the pole from Catherine, who wouldn’t let go.

“I can do it, Seteth,” she responded indignantly, pulling the pole back from his grasp. He struggled to maintain it in his own reach, insisting that he should do it.

Shamir watched as the struggle continued until eventually, Seteth let go. The only problem was that Catherine was still pulling tightly on the pole, so that the momentum flung it upwards and the it hit her right in the face.

She groaned and doubled over, a hand covering her eye.

Shamir shot up and rushed over, trying to assess the damage. Seteth froze, stuttering apologies and leaning next to her.

“Relax,” Catherine said between pained grimaces. “I still have my eye. It’ll leave one hell of a shiner, though.” She pulled her hand back and Shamir winced at the quick-forming bruise around her swelling eye.

The rain was still coming down, and it was just then when Manuela, Hanneman, and the professor emerged from the wooded forest, just as drenched as the three who failed to erect a tent.

All three of the teachers cringed upon seeing Catherine’s eye.

Seteth broke the silence. “Where’s the firewood?”

Manuela groaned. “Can it, Seteth.”

* * *

The rain stopped after an hour or so, and Byleth helped finish setting up the tents. Nightfall came, and eventually Hanneman was able to create a fire with the help of a little reason magic.

They sat in a circle around the pathetically small fire, conversing lightly. Byleth’s hands stung horribly by now, itching intensely. The only solution they found was to keep their gloves on and distract themselves. Catherine’s eye had turned an ugly purple color, and she winced whenever she moved her head. Manuela kept complaining about how cold she was, and Hanneman kept on tending to the fire, casually asking Byleth questions about the Crest of Flames every couple minutes. Shamir and Seteth were engaged in a conversation of the politics of Fódlan.

After a while of the very same _bonding_ that Rhea was so keen on them having, the group retired for the night and went to bed.

When Byleth was awoken, they weren’t sure what time it was. It was still dark outside, and it took them a moment to pinpoint what exactly woke them up in the first place.

It was the sound of arguing.

Suddenly unnerved, Byleth rubbed the sleep from their eyes and walked out of their tent.

The fire was dying, barely offering any illumination but still flickering just enough for Byleth to analyze the scene. Manuela sat in front of the fire, a bottle of booze in her hand and another three empty ones on the ground next to her. Hanneman stood across from her, disheveled and clearly frustrated. Neither of them seemed to notice Byleth just standing there.

“I cannot believe you woke me up just to pick a fight with me!” Hanneman seethed incredulously.

Manuela took another swig of whatever alcoholic beverage she had in her hand before putting it on the floor and standing up. She swayed considerably before steadying herself.

“Listen here…Hanneman,” she began, slurring an embarrassing amount. “I must list my grievances with you one way or another. That’s why I have to tell you everything I hate about you.”

The older man looked absolutely flabbergasted. Manuela took his silence as a sign to continue.

“For example, you’re always such a goodie two-shoes. And a stick in the mud. And you always criticize everything I do!”

Hanneman clenched his jaw. “Manuela, you have a problem. You have many problems, in fact. This is precisely one of them! Why on earth would you bring this much alcohol on a two day retreat? And just drink it by yourself?!”

“This is the sad truth…no one ever wants to drink with me. I’ll never find a man.” Manuela began to get teary-eyed, and Hanneman sighed. Byleth supposed that the older professor was used to this by now.

“I can’t disagree at the present moment,” he muttered, just loud enough for Byleth to hear.

Feeling like somewhat of an intruder in the scene, Byleth decided to head back to sleep. They were sure that Hanneman had the situation under control.He was accustomed to dealing with her behavior by now.

* * *

Seteth was the first to wake up in the morning. He sat outside the tents, trying to prepare breakfast for everyone with the rations they had brought with them. The sun was peaking over the horizon, much calmer than yesterday’s gloomy weather.

Shamir woke up soon after, silently helping Seteth get the food ready. They exchanged a few words but didn’t have much else to say. Seteth saw Shamir as a straightforward individual, with little need for small talk if unnecessary. It was an admirable trait, he thought, to an extent.

Hanneman was next, and he was considerably more talkative than the preceding companion. He started complaining about Manuela’s slovenly behavior and drunken antics the night before, earning a sigh from both Shamir and Seteth. Hanneman then sat down with one of his research books and remained absorbed in the text.

Catherine woke up after Hanneman, sporting her black eye casually. The other teachers winced when they caught sight of it.

“Sheesh, calm down. It’s not _that_ bad,” Catherine said defensively. “I’ll have to get Seteth back sooner or later.”

Said person in question became several shades paler with that comment.

They were prompted of Manuela’s awakening by a loud groan coming from her tent. Hanneman rolled his eyes. While he did not take pleasure in the suffering of his colleague, and he knew she was bound to suffer considering her alcohol intake from the night before, he also did not condone this behavior so he didn’t feel pity.

She came out of her tent looking like hell, complaining about her “killer headache,” to which Catherine scoffed at. Seteth just kept shaking his head disapprovingly.

It was fifteen minutes later that the group began to suspect something was off. Byleth hadn’t come out of their tent yet, and they weren’t known for being a heavy sleeper.

The group waited uncomfortably until Shamir finally went in the tent to see what was wrong. Her face was unreadable when she came back out.

“They’re gone,” she said plainly. Seteth immediately shot up.

“What on earth do you mean?!” He snapped, walking over himself to verify the statement. Indeed, Byleth’s tent was empty. There didn’t appear to be any signs of a struggle.

“They’re just not there?” Catherine asked, frowning. Shamir shook her head. Hanneman walked over to the tent, his brows furrowed.

“How peculiar indeed. Sounds odd for the professor to just vanish like that. I wonder...maybe it has something to do with their strange crest,” he mused aloud, not looking very concerned for the professor’s wellbeing.

“Why does everything have to be about a crest?” Manuela asked irritably. She had her head buried in her face, too out of it to react to Byleth’s disappearance but lucid enough to bicker with Hanneman.

Seteth began pacing, the worry in his face evident. “Now, it might not be any cause for alarm, but I’ve been awake for several hours and the professor hadn’t come out of their tent by then. That means they’ve been missing for quite some time. On the other hand, making they’re just out on a hike or something.” Seteth abruptly stopped pacing and crossed his arms. He thought for a bit, and most eyes were trained on him. “I’ll go look for them.”

* * *

After all, Seteth ended up taking Shamir and Hanneman as companions to search for Byleth.

Catherine had insisted that she come along to aid in the search, but Shamir pointed out that she wouldn’t be able to do much searching with her eye like that. Manuela was too hungover to even put up a fight.

They made their way down the slope of the cliff, dodging the same coniferous trees that were there during their ascent. The air still smelled humid and damp, but the breeze that accompanied it was brisk and cool. Seteth felt the gnawing worry in his stomach grow as they searched for the professor, who wasn’t answering when they called their name out.

“They probably got tired of dealing with Manuela’s antics and decided to go back to the monastery,” Hanneman pointed out bitterly.

“Or they were tired of Seteth being a know-it-all and didn’t want to get their eye stabbed out like Catherine,” Shamir suggested slyly.

The archbishop’s assistant gritted his teeth. “That’s enough from both of you. I swear, the faculty of the monastery acts so childish sometimes. Let’s just keep looking for the professor. They could be in trouble.”

Shamir smirked and Hanneman just shook his head.

They were about to keep looking when they heard a shriek in the distance. It didn’t sound like Byleth. There was a pause, a large growl, a shout, and the sound of trees falling.

“By the goddess...” Seteth muttered, wide-eyed. “Let’s get back.”

* * *

They hadn’t heard the beast sneak up on them. It wasn’t until the nearby bushes were rustling too much to be the wind that the two women turned around to see what faced them.

A wild demonic beast, at least twelve feet tall. It looked like some sort of giant wolf, baring its pointed fangs. Drool slid down its chin, dripping onto the ground in a slobbery mess. Its fur was matted and rough, some parts bloodied and others with scar tissue. It snarled, and its yellow eyes glared menacingly at the two ladies.

Manuela couldn’t help but let out a scream of fright. She regretted it immediately - not only because of her splitting headache - but because the beast growled loudly, looking angrier now with the sound.

Catherine’s one good eye widened. Her depth perception was off, and her head pulsed with each heartbeat. Fighting this thing would be hard in her condition. Nevertheless, she pulled out Thunderbrand and wasted no time in swinging the sword in a swooping arc. A shout escaped her lips as she put all the force into the blow, which the beast evaded easily. As a result, the trees behind it toppled down.

“Tch. Can’t you do something about this black eye?!” Catherine called to Manuela, who had moved to stand next to her. The healer winced.

“There’s no need to yell, you know. I’m right here,” she responded irritably. “And no, there’s no open wound that I could close with magic. It’s just bruising that needs to heal by itself. If I had time to make some medicine, now that would be another story…”

They were cut short as Seteth, Hanneman, and Shamir burst through the trees, ready for battle.

“Oh, nice. You all made it,” Catherine said, relieved. Without hesitation, the onslaught immediately began on the beast.

Spears, volleys of arrows, fire, and magic sliced through the air, inflicting damage on their foe. But they just seemed to anger the feral monster. With a guttural roar and a large swipe of its claws, all five teachers were sent flying backwards, scraping on the rocky ground. Dust rose up, obscuring the view, and a chorus of low, pained groans echoed from the group.

“This is not the best way to spend the retreat,” Seteth noted between coughs, struggling to get back up.

Shamir spat blood out. “I can’t say I disagree.”

The dust cleared, and the beast inched closer to its soon-to-be prey. The teachers braced themselves.

Before either side could take action, there was a flurry of movement, a flowing cloak, and a flash of blue hair. With a simple blade and delicate swordsmanship, beast was taken out almost immediately. The newcomer turned around, sheathing their sword, and looked at the crew on the floor.

“Where on earth have you been?!” Seteth exclaimed, his tone a mix of desperate relief and chastisement.

Byleth looked confused. “I was fishing,” was their simple reply, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

Seteth’s expression turned blank. “Fishing. For five hours?”

Byleth nodded vehemently. The other teachers looked at each other with varied expressions, as if saying “we should have known.”

Seteth looked quite meek. “Okay. Alright, I think that’s it. Let’s head back to the monastery.” His voice was small when he spoke.

Catherine let out a loud laugh, followed by chuckles from the whole group, save for a very deadpan Seteth and a very confused Byleth.

It was safe to say that this specific retreat was going down in history as the most eventful one in years.

**Author's Note:**

> idk what that was I promise i'll get better at writing three houses
> 
> also byleth really likes fishing


End file.
